


Sinking Feeling

by romanticalgirl



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2017-12-05 01:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 11-15-07</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sinking Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 11-15-07

Matthew doesn't think about it. He can't. If he thinks, he gets a queasy feeling the previously had only come from bad fish. But now it comes from this. This moment of suspended time where he's staring at Ioan and Ioan's staring back at him and there's nothing in the world keeping him from leaning and kissing him. Kissing Ioan.

Yes. Queasy. Very, very queasy.

"Why're you looking at me like that?"

"Like that? Like what?" Matthew forces his gaze back down to his paper and his bowl of very soggy cornflakes, rereading the same sentence he's yet to process any of the previous fifteen times he glanced at it. "How'm I looking at you?"

"Like I've grown another head. I've not, have I?"

"No. No head. No extra head. You've a head. Obviously. Can't talk without one."

"Riiiiiight." Ioan stands up and moves away from the table, leaving Matthew in relative peace to berate himself for being a fucking idiot while Ioan fetches more coffee. "You've gone right 'round the bend, haven't you, Rhys? London's gotten to you. Slipped right over the edge."

"No. No. I'm fine. Just tired. Very tired. Not sleeping." He knows it's a mistake the moment he says it, as Ioan's small smile disappears in a wash of concern and he comes back to the table, scooting his chair closer. "Um."

"You're not sleeping?" Ioan's hand is cool against Matthew's forehead and Matthew's breath catches somewhere in his chest. "You're not feeling poorly, are you? No fevers? Chills?"

"You've been watching ER again, haven't you?" Matthew smiles and does his best to remain still, to not lean into the gentle touch of Ioan's fingers as he turns his hand and presses his palm to Matthew's forehead then his cheek. "Next I know you're going to think I've got the plague and quarantine me."

"I've seen the rats in this flat, mate. I wouldn't be suprised if we both died of the plague."

"Scurvy's more likely, given you can't be arsed to buy fruit." He gives in, resting his head against Ioan's palm, closing his eyes. "Leave it to us to die of diseases they've pretty much gotten rid of. Maybe we can contract polio as well. Go for a trifecta of sorts."

Ioan's thumb sweeps along Matthew's brow. "You're flushed."

"I'm fine." He opens his eyes, surprised to find Ioan so close, too close. "Just tired."

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

Matthew licks his lips. "Dreams."

Ioan's dark eyes follow the path of Matthew's tongue and stay focused on his lips, watching them as Matthew's tongue darts out again, as they stay parted to allow the soft exhalation of air Matthew can't quite help. "Bad dreams?"

"No. No. Not...not bad." Matthew's own eyes drop to Ioan's mouth and watch as he swallows, watches the pulse jump in his jaw. "Not bad. Good. Good, just...disturbing. A little. A little disturbing."

"Disturbing how?" Ioan's hand slides down, thumb tracing from Matthew's brow to his cheek to his neck. Matthew's breath catches and he can't breathe at all. 

"Erotic." He doesn't say the word so much as exhale it, and the shiver that follows seems to extend from him to Ioan, trapped between them like whatever spark has kicked Matthew's pulse into high gear. "They've been...rather..."

Ioan's eyes are half closed, his lashes laying against his skin like a shadow. His mouth is open and his head tilted. He's telegraphing what he wants and Matthew would give anything in the world to believe it. "Erotic."

"Yes."

"Tell me," Ioan whispers, closing the space between them until there's nothing there at all. 

"Not so good at telling stories," Matthew licks his lips, biting back a groan as his tongue brushes against Ioan's mouth. "Could show you instead. If you want."

Ioan nods and kisses him, a soft, barely-there brush of his lips. "I want."

"Oh," Matthew exhales, kissing Ioan softly, and then again, deeper this time. "Thank God."

**

They stumble to the room, neither of them thinking about what they're doing or what it might mean. At least Matthew assumes there's no thinking, as he's not got a single synapse firing that isn't screaming for exactly where they're headed, tripping and nearly falling and keeping each other on their feet with desperate, exploring hands.

This is how it goes, he knows. One minute you're talking current events and the next you're scrambling arse over tits to find the nearest, marginally clean horizontal surface. His hands act on their own accord, tugging at Ioan's t-shirt and pulling it over Ioan's head, his mouth following his hands down, nearly giving up on trying to walk and settling on the floor, tugging Ioan down with him.

Ioan groans in protest and tugs Matthew along, kicking his door open and backing up until his legs are against the bed. Matthew makes a sound and kisses him for a moment before pushing Ioan back and following him down. 

Ioan's hands are long-fingered and gentle, exploring and warm as they slip under Matthew's shirt, teasing up the line of his back. Matthew catches Ioan's lip between his teeth and sucks on it, shifting until he feels Ioan's legs part beneath him, Matthew's thighs brushing at Ioan's skin. "Oh...fuck."

It's Ioan's turn to groan as he thrusts up against Matthew, grinding against him. His hands curve over Matthew's arse, pushing downwards as his hips roll up. "God, Matthew." His voice wavers and he thrusts again. Matthew returns the movement, rocking downward and shuddering hard, neither his nor Ioan's boxers doing anything to hide the feel of Ioan's hardness against his own.

There's nothing graceful or romantic about it. It's messy and hard and desperate and Matthew's not sure that they even remember who's who, except all he can think about is that it's Ioan beneath him. It's Ioan's hands on his body, Ioan's mouth against his, Ioan's cock beneath the thin cotton. It explodes behind his eyes when Ioan whimpers beneath his breath and reaches between them, tugging both their boxers down until there's nothing but flesh.

"Oh...God. Fucking..." Matthew pants roughly, his nails digging into the mattress beneath him. Ioan groans something unintelligible and they stop pretending it's anything but the wet slide of skin on skin, grinding together until the world seems to come to an end and everything vanishes in a blinding flash of light. 

Ioan's eyes are closed when Matthew manages to open his, though his lips are parted and his chest rises and falls rapidly, in time with Matthew's. "We've been flatmates for nearly three years." Ioan informs Matthew quietly.

"True." He swallows, unsure what's to come. It's quite possible he's fucked the whole thing up.

"How on earth did it take us this long to realize the best way to start a Saturday?" Ioan smiles and Matthew laughs and kisses him once more for good measure. It's not quite resolved, he's not fool enough to think that, but whatever it is, it'll all work out in the end.


End file.
